


slowly, and then all at once

by HaleyElizabeth



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Background Lydia/Aiden, Background Scallisaac, Canon compliant through 3x12, M/M, Mild bottom!Derek at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2017-12-30 23:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaleyElizabeth/pseuds/HaleyElizabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, falling in love is what happens when you're not paying attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	slowly, and then all at once

**Author's Note:**

  * For [penelopeblack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/penelopeblack/gifts).



> For Autumn, who was promised this fic well over a month ago. Whoops. Ily, baby girl. Title is a John Green quote, from The Fault In Our Stars. The full quote is, "As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once." Feel free to follow my [tumblr](http://shamewolf.tumblr.com/) for more writing or whatever.

It wasn't something that either of them ever _wanted_ to happen.

It just... happened.

Sometimes these things can't be stopped. You meet someone, you aren't a fan of them- and that's putting it lightly- but you need them, for one thing or another. And even after you stop needing them for that one specific thing, you've formed... something. 

A bond makes it sound too intimate. You've set a precedence. And then, when you need something again, there they are, ready to be of service. Ready to save your life, save the world, save whatever it is that needs saving.

There are only so many times you can do this before a relationship is established.

Stiles and Derek never wanted to form a relationship. Not an alliance, not a friendship, certainly not anything more than that.

But it happens.

You see someone broken and vulnerable over and over and over again, and it's your job to take care of them, over and over and over again, and at some point, you stop pretending like you don't care.

Because, unfortunately, unless you have a heart made out of cement or maybe ice- which Stiles might have argued Derek did have, once upon a time- you will start to care, eventually.

It's inevitable.

**********  
October

Derek came back from South America _different._

Sometimes, Stiles would look at him and think that he should have seemed smaller. That his presence should have taken up less space. It was logical. His body was smaller, muscles drained of the alpha's need to always be battle ready. He no longer had that _power_ , that thing that made him _Derek Hale._

But if anything, he took up more space after that. He was happier. Less weighed down, less burdened by whatever had been dragging him down all this time.

Stiles chocked up his knowing this only to the fact that they spent a ridiculous amount of time together.

Okay, not a ridiculous amount. Not more than he spent with Allison or Scott, who he had always loved, but was now bound to in a way that he couldn't really explain to anyone else. And not more than he spent with Lydia, either, who took her job as a tether more seriously than he had expected, always popping up to check in on him.

But, still. Allison and Scott also had Isaac who, well, Stiles didn't ask a lot of questions about _that_ relationship, mostly because he wasn't sure he wanted to know the details. And Lydia had Aiden, another relationship that he didn't really _get_ , but it wasn't _his_ place to remind her that her boyfriend was a murderer. (Maybe she had a type! Some girls were into that sort of thing. And if nothing else, Stiles was fairly sure Lydia could kick the alpha's ass if she really wanted to.)

And with his other friends occupied, Stiles found a chunk of his free time spent at the loft.

Never doing anything _fun_ of course. No matter how much his little vacation had changed him, he was still _Derek Hale_ and God forbid they be allowed to watch the game or pig out on pizza. No, it was always _reading_ and helping Derek reinstall his security system and one really _boring_ visit to the grocery story. (Derek was a fan of _tofu_. What self respecting werewolf willingly ate tofu? Forcing his father to eat veggie burgers to make sure he didn't die was one thing, but this? Madness.)

Still, it was better than spending his time alone. 

**********  
October (cont.)

Derek got that Stiles didn't want to be alone.

He wasn't sure about the why, the details were mostly lost on him, but there was something _different_ about him. Something that smelled darker, bitter, biting like iron, like blood. The same change clung to Allison and Scott, something black that coated auras that were once pure.

And so he didn't ask. Whatever it was that they had done, they'd had a reason. He knew each of them well enough to know that. If being around other people alleviated whatever he was going through, Derek would let him have that small comfort.

And having Stiles around sometimes wasn't the worst thing that had ever happened to him. He talked incessantly, even when it was clear that Derek was _reading_ , but he was smart and helpful when he needed to be, and he cleaned up after himself, and he never stayed too long or too late.

Not until Derek made him, at least.

He was sitting on his couch, copy of Dracula balanced on his palm, when he caught movement from the corner of his eye. Derek flicked his gazed towards the kitchen counter, where Stiles had had his homework splayed out, and was now shoving things into his backpack.

"Going somewhere?"

"Uh, yeah, home. You know, where I live. Can't sit here and keep you company all day, big guy."

Derek rolled his eyes. "You'll die if you leave."

Stiles stilled, and shot him a look, amber eyes narrowed. "Are we predicting the future now?"

He huffed, and went back to his book. "I don't know if you'd noticed, Stiles, but it's raining a little."

When his words were met with silence, he glanced back over, to catch Stiles staring out the window like he really had only just realized there was a near-hurricane banging against the glass, raining terror down on the city.

Of course, Derek wasn't altogether surprised that the next thing he said was, "I'll be fine," and went back to shoveling things into his bag.

He sighed, and put his book down on the side table. (It wasn't that good, really. The idea of vampires was laughable.) "Call your dad. Tell him you're staying here tonight. I'm sure he doesn't want you driving around in this weather, anyways."

Stiles looked at him like he'd grown a second head, and Derek just raised an eyebrow back at him.

After a moment of their stare off, Stiles finally just shrugged, and tugged his cell phone out of his pocket. "Fine. But I'm not eating tofu, so you better have something edible in your fridge." He wandered off to make his call, and Derek snorted after him.

They ate grilled chicken and potatoes. Stiles slept on the couch, with a pillow from Derek's bed, and a blanket from the hall closet. By morning, the sun was back, and the rain was gone.

**********  
February

Peter was a raging bag of dog shit.

Or, Peter _had been_ a raging bag of dog shit. Before Lydia had shoved a wolfsbane knife through his heart and left his corpse lying in the middle of the forest.

Stiles wasn't sure what to say or do, and that was becoming too familiar of a feeling for him. Peter had gone after Scott. Peter had wanted the alpha power. They'd stopped him. They'd won.

Somehow, it didn't feel like a victory. Somehow, he just felt tired.

Lydia was kneeling not far away from where his body was, whole body shaking, eyes big and watery. Allison was draped over her, arms wrapped around her shoulders, whispering things into her ear that Stiles couldn't make out with human hearing.

Scott was hurt, but not badly. A scratch across his arm that was already healing. They met eyes over Isaac's shoulder, where he was rubbing his fingers into Scott's skin, and they grinned at each other. Tired, sad grins.

_We're okay._  
 _I love you, buddy._

Stiles turned his head towards Derek.

He was standing a little further off than the rest of them, leaning against a tree, arms crossed too-tight over his middle. Stiles couldn't make out his eyes exactly, but he knew where he was looking, knew that his gaze was focused on the corpse of his uncle.

He looked so much like the old Derek that it was a little unsettling.

"Hey." Stiles took a few steps towards him until he could lean against the other side of the tree, trying for casual and probably missing by a mile. Derek glanced at him, briefly, but didn't say a word, before he went back to what he'd been staring at.

Stiles tried to put himself in his shoes. Derek had killed Peter once before, but he'd also welcomed him back into the pack. He was the last family he had left- besides Cora, who was still in South America- but Derek had never really seemed to _like_ him all that much. And yet, still, family had to mean something. He couldn't just-

Derek reached up and put a hand on Stiles' shoulder. He squeezed it, hard but not too hard, and Stiles felt relief spread through his whole body.

**********  
May

There weren't many things that could make Derek want to curl in on himself and shut out the rest of the world.

But one of those things was fire.

And yet, he was the only one here. Scott, Allison, and Isaac were having some fucking _dinner_ with all their parents, happy and oblivious to what was going on. They'd all assumed that the death of one ifrit meant the end of it, without even considering the possibility that it had a _mate._

A mate that was now trying to burn down the Stilinski house.

And doing a damn good job of it, too, if the smoke coming from the roof was any indication.

Derek couldn't let himself think. He couldn't let his imagination go anywhere else because he knew if he did, he wouldn't be able to do it.

He thought about Stiles. He thought about doing this to save Stiles, and he steeled himself, breaking down the front door with a kick of his boot. The smoke was thicker here, thick enough that he almost choked on it. He didn't know how a human could breathe like this.

But he still didn't let himself think, taking the stair two at a time. The smoke was too thick to search for him by scent so he broke down every door until he found him. Sleeping, tucking into his bed, the flames nearly licking his arms. Or maybe not sleeping.

Derek threw him over his shoulder and jumped out the window.

On the ground below, Derek cradled Stiles' head between his palms, shaking him, feeling the faint pulse beneath his hands. "Stiles. Stiles!"

Almond eyes blinked open at him, and Stiles' mouth twisted into something like confusion.

"We have got to stop meeting like this."

Derek raised his eyebrows, and Stiles' eyes closed again. When the sirens arrived, he was still holding him.

**********  
June

Stiles tried not to take pleasure in killing anything. It was too easy to like it, and that was a dangerous path to go down.

Still, killing the son of a bitch that had tried to _burn him to death_ in his sleep felt too much like a victory.

Lydia and Scott buried it under the stones, the way the bestiary said to. They didn't bury it anywhere near it's _mate._ It didn't deserve that kind of company, not even in death.

When the others went home, Stiles turned onto the highway without thinking. When he found himself at a now-familiar apartment complex, he wasn't surprised. And Derek didn't look surprised when he opened his door and let him in.

"We killed it." He told him, walking past him to get to the fridge, taking out the Britta filter he knew he'd find there. Derek hated water bottles. Said they were ruining the environment.

When had he learned that?

Derek nodded at his words, and closed the front door, moving to sit down at the island in his kitchen. "Good."

"Good."

He poured the purified water into a glass, and put it back into the fridge. Took a drink. Let the silence stretch out.

Eventually, Derek asked, "Where are you staying?"

"Scott's. For now. The house should be... livable again by the end of summer."

"Could be worse."

It could have been worse. Stiles knows this. Derek knows this, too. Derek whose entire family burned to death in a fire. Derek, who had lost everything- innocence, love, control, hope- to flames. It could have been so much worse.

He lost a few old pictures and half his clothes. He'll live.

"Thanks." Stiles muttered into the water glass, taking another drink.

Derek didn't say anything back.

**********  
September

"I need your help."

It wasn't that Derek didn't know how to use a door, exactly, it was just that windows were a lot easier. And Stiles _knew_ , by now, that werewolves could jump through his window. He was the one that continued choosing to leave it open.

It registered to Derek about ten seconds later that something was _off._ Stiles was standing in front of his mirror in slacks and a polo, with his damn hair slicked back, reeking like too much Axe.

Oh. "You have a date."

He tried not to sound surprised and probably missed the mark, by the annoyed look on Stiles' face.

"Yes, I have a date. So you can find someone else to help you."

"Cancel."

Stiles glared at him, turning away from the mirror, to throw his hands up. "I'm a senior, Derek! A senior! Do you know how many dates I've been on in my whole high school career?"

"No, but-"

"One! One, Derek! I took Lydia Martin to the Winter Formal. And do you know how that date ended? She hooked up with Jackson and then got attacked by your psychotic uncle." He huffed, and turned back to the mirror, smoothing back his hair. "Go find someone else."

"I think there might be a nephilim in town."

Stiles froze. Slowly, he turned his head back towards Derek.

"Nephilim?"

He nodded.

"As in... half angel, half human, _nephilim_?"

"Yeah. How do you know what they are?"

"Don't underestimate me." Stiles nibbled at his lower lip, and glanced at something by Derek's knee. When he glanced down, he saw it was his cell phone, lying on the bed. Stiles sighed. "Elliot is so cute."

Derek tried to look sympathetic.

Stiles growled and reached for his phone. "I am going to die a virgin."

He pet at his shoulder in a forced display of comfort, while Stiles explained to this "Elliot" that there was a family emergency.

**********  
October

"Who died?"

The joke wasn't funny, and they both know it was not funny, but it still hangs between them when Derek opens the door to Stiles in a suit.

Stiles doesn't respond, just rolls his eyes and pushes past him.

"Aren't you supposed to be at homecoming right now?"

Derek sounded more curious than concerned, which Stiles was, if nothing else, grateful for. When he does this, when he "deviates," everyone else likes to harp on him. Tell him that the only way to get back to feeling like a normal person is to act like one. Scott and Allison can do it. So can he.

Derek never gives him that crap. Then, Derek probably doesn't put much stock in being a normal person.

"Got halfway there and decided that sitting around and watching my friends grind on each other sounded infinitely less fun than beating your ass at Halo." He shrugged, and grabbed a beer from Derek's fridge. "Besides, it's your fault Elliot lost interest in me."

Derek was there in the next second, taking the drink and glaring at him, shoving it back to the back of the fridge. "How many times am I going to have to apologize? I really thought there were-"

"Yeah, yeah, we know, Derek, you were trying to save the town from the wrath of angel hybrids. Angel hybrids that turned out to be _what_ , again?"

Derek's face tightened into that _frown_ and Stiles was instantly in a good mood.

"C'mon, Derek. Remind me what those nephilim were again?"

He mumbled something under his breath and Stiles quirked an eyebrow. "Hmm?"

"They were strippers. They were angel strippers. Can you just shut up and go sit down now?"

Stiles laughed for a good ten minutes. But he did sit down. And he did kick Derek's ass at Halo. He texted Scott once to let him know he was okay, and not dead or kidnapped, but otherwise, he ignored his phone the whole night.

**********  
December

In a roundabout sort of way, Derek had grown fond of Lydia.

They had their bad blood between them- an inevitability- but, through Scott, they'd become part of the same pack. And he respected her. She was cunning and she was _brilliant_ , and- and okay, admittedly, he maybe loved her. Loved her, at least, in the same way that he loved any of the others.

But sometimes, she really terrified him.

Now was definitely one of those times, staring out at what he was sure _was_ his apartment, somewhere, hidden underneath mountains and tinsel and Christmas lights. Lydia hadn't so much as asked to use the loft for the "pack Christmas party," so much as she'd showed up the day before and shoved a few boxes in his arms.

His loft had been effectively transformed from his minimalist cave to a winter wonderland, complete with giant glittery snowflakes hanging from the ceiling, fake snow covering the entire floor, and a giant, real pine Christmas tree, in the center of his living room.

Terrifying. She was terrifying.

Derek had spent the majority of the party standing off to the side, watching everyone else. Lydia had taken the liberty of inviting Aiden- and consequently Ethan and Danny.

Derek knew... in some ways, things had to be forgiven. When you were desperate for allies, you couldn't be selective about who was offered to you.

Still, it didn't mean he had to be thrilled about the twins being in his home again.

Halfway into the party, Stiles dropped down into the seat next to him.

Derek pointedly didn't think about how comfortable that felt. How he didn't need to look to his left, to make sure there was no threat. How he felt warmer and safer with Stiles at his side, despite the other man's smaller stature and decidedly human nature.

Pointedly didn't think about it.

"I didn't get you anything." Derek raised an eyebrow and turned to look at him, catching Stiles' face somewhere between bashful and resigned. "I was thinking maybe a book, but you- you literally own everything. And you do not need another leather jacket. I toyed with the idea of getting you a cat for a while, but I thought, you know, why endanger a small animal for the sake a good joke."

He twisted his nimble fingers through his hair and sighed. Derek just smirked.

"It's cool, I didn't get you anything, either."

Stiles looked immediately appalled, and elbowed him in the ribs- hard enough to cause a flare of pain, if not enough to leave a mark. "You ass."

Derek laughed, and rolled his eyes, throwing an arm around Stiles' shoulders. "Merry Christmas, Stilinski."

Beside him, Stiles hummed, and let himself be tugged closer. "Merry Christmas, Hale."

**********  
March

"I feel like Valentine's Day was definitely a month ago." Stiles used his key to get into Derek's loft, and dropped his book bag in front of the door. "Am I wrong?"

Derek barely even glanced up from his book, leaning back against the arm of the couch, a beer in one hand. "No."

"No. Exactly. I'm not wrong. Try telling _them_ that."

He didn't begrudge his friends any happiness, even if their little date nights were annoying as Hell.

He dropped down onto Derek's legs, and wiggled uncomfortably. Finally, Derek huffed and moved his feet- only long enough to stretch his legs out over his lap, instead of underneath his ass.

"Something on your mind, Stiles?"

"No." He looked down at Derek's calves, covered by his dark jeans, and then let his eyes wander down his feet, bony and ridiculous. Were all feet ridiculous or just Derek's? He didn't know. "Well, maybe."

Derek made a noise to indicate he should keep talking, and Stiles sucked in a deep breath.

"Do you find me attractive?"

He actually thought he heard something snap in Derek's spine, his head shot up so fast. "What?"

"I mean, if you saw me on the street, would you think... you know, like, 'oh, that guy's hot.' Or would it be more like... 'wow, what alien planet is that thing from?'" He licked at his lower lip, and braced his hands on Derek's calves. "Just for my own knowledge."

Derek's face did a strange convulsing thing, and he huffed, sinking lower into the couch. He put his book over his face, pointedly going back to reading. "You're plenty attractive, Stiles. Why the sudden interest in your looks?"

"I'm going to go to college a virgin."

Stiles took a deep breath, letting his fingers knead their way into Derek's legs. "I got into Stanford."

The book made a dull thud when it fell from Derek's fingers to his chest. When Stiles glanced over, he was staring at him, eyes unreadable.

"Congratulations."

"Thanks."

Neither of them sounded sincere.

After a long moment, Derek stood, and walked into the kitchen. When he returned, he tossed a beer into Stiles' lap. Stiles took it, a weight in his stomach.

"Don't worry so much about what other people are doing with their dicks. You'll have fun, in college."

Stiles nodded. Didn't answer, just popped the top of the beer and took a deep drink.

**********  
June

It was supposed to be _easier_ than this.

Deaton had given them the ritual to take the power away from the Nemeton, to stop it from sending out its signals and bringing the shitstorm of the supernatural down on them. Once the ritual was completed, it was just supposed to be _over._ The kids were meant to have a peaceful, happy summer before college, and afterwards, Derek was supposed to... move on. Or something.

But it hadn't exactly worked out. What Deaton had failed to mention- either through malice or ignorance, Derek was never sure how much he trusted the vet- was that the ritual that would kill the Nemeton would send off a huge blast of power, all at once. A surge through the atmosphere so big that it would send dozens, if not _hundreds_ of monsters to their doorstep all at once.

It had been far from a peaceful, or happy summer.

And now Derek was buried alive.

The banshees had been easy to deal with, when Lydia had come forward and charmed them into understanding. So had the other packs, once learning of the true alpha, the boy that no one wanted to make an enemy out of. The valkyrie had scared the shit out of everyone with their fucking _lightning rods_ , but they'd dealt with them eventually. (They were tightly connected covens. Kill one and they all die from grief.) The fairies had strung Isaac and Allison up and prepared to eat them, but Stiles and Lydia had managed a banishing spell. The vampire- fucking _vampire_ , Derek would have sworn they were a myth- had sunk his fangs into Allison's neck, but the excess holy water she'd been drinking had taken care of that.

They'd been lucky. No one had died. No one had been injured more than a few dislocated shoulders and bruises.

But he was totally gonna die. He was almost sure of it.

He didn't know how long he'd been underground. Didn't know where he was, either, other than in a box. He'd tried to crawl his way through, but when dirt had started to fill it, he'd stopped. He'd tried howling, but either no one had heard him, or they all had boxes of their own- didn't wanna risk doing it again, didn't know how much oxygen he had left.

Derek did a lot of thinking.

Cora was going to be only Hale left. He hoped, if he did die down here, Lydia was the one to call her and tell her. For all the pretended to hate one another, they had a bond. He wished he'd thought to call her more often, even with everything going on. He knew she was happy in South America, but it was still nice to hear her voice.

But then, he wished he'd done a lot of things differently.

Paige, Kate, Jennifer. Letting Peter back into his life. Never telling Scott the whole truth until it was almost too late.

Stiles.

Derek winced, a his gut throbbing like he'd been stabbed.

Derek was going to die in this fucking pine box, buried underneath the ground, and Stiles was never going to know... he was never going to know that he... how much he... He was never going to know...

The thoughts were still swirling in his head when he lost consciousness.

**********  
June (cont.)

They had promised leniency to the tengu, on the grounds that she gave up Derek's location. They had sworn that they would let her go, so long as he did not die.

They had lied. Or maybe it was just Stiles who had lied, slicing her head from her shoulders the minute her back was turned. Scott looked disappointed. But it was what it was.

"What if he's already-"

" _He isn't._ " Stiles growled the word in Isaac's direction, his shovel hitting the dirt hard, tossing it over his shoulder.

Isaac didn't argue, and for a while, there no sounds but five shovels hitting dirt. Until they hit something else."

"I think I found him!" Allison reached down and started parting dirt with her hands, and Stiles' should knocked into her's. Beneath their palms, a pine box appeared.

"There's a padlock- Scott!"

"I got it." Scott''s fingers tightened around the chain and yanked, breaking it apart.

Stiles reached down and wrenched the box open.

Inside, Derek was still breathing. Covered in dirt and blood, eyes closed, but breathing. "Someone get me some water!" Behind him, he heard someone scramble off, but didn't turn to see who.

"Derek? Derek, come on, wake up."

Stiles yanked him up by his shoulders, let his hands slip towards either side of his neck. Cradling him, and shaking him gently, pressed up against each other.

"Derek, come on. _Come on._ You do not get to leave me like this!"

Pale grey eyes blinked open, slowly, and Stiles heaved the biggest sigh of relief he'd ever breathed.

Derek muttered something he couldn't hear, before Lydia was pushing past Stiles and tipping water down his throat.

Stiles looked away long enough to see Scott staring at them, confusion making his brow furrow.

"What?"

"He said... we have got to stop meeting like this."

Stiles blinked at him for a few seconds. And then he just laughed.

**********  
August

"Hey."

"Hey..." Derek blinked, sleepily, at the boy in front of him, before he took a step back and made a sweeping motion with his hand. "Uh, come in. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Um. I just." Stiles moved inside, moving awkwardly, his hands twisting in front of him. "I just wanted to see you."

Derek felt his heart do a strange twist in his chest, and closed the door. He yawned again, rubbing a hand over his chest. "You wanted to see me at three in the morning?"

Stiles flushed, a pink that covered his neck and ears, and Derek smirked a little at the sight.

"I- well. I didn't really- I leave for Stanford. Eight o' clock tomorrow morning. And I didn't really get a chance to say goodbye to you."

Derek frowned. "It's okay. I didn't expect- I mean, I know you spent yesterday with Scott."

"Scott isn't the only person in this town that I care about."

His heart did that thing again, clenching too tight, almost painfully. He was pretty sure he wasn't having a heart attack. He didn't know what else to think of it.

"I know that."

He and Stiles stared at each other for a long moment, before Stiles raked his fingers through his hair.

"I'm talking about _you_ , Derek."

"I know what you're talking about, Stiles."

He moved to the couch, leaned back against the couch cushions. Ran his palms over his thighs. "Come on, sit down."

"I don't wanna sit down, Derek, I- _fuck._ " Derek could hear his heart beating in his chest, too fast. He watched him, concerned. Stiles walked a little closer. "I need- I just wanted- I couldn't go to Stanford without telling you-"

"Telling me what?"

He could feel his own heartbeat racing, rising to meet the crescendo of Stiles'. He licked at his lips, mouth feeling dry, body feeling strangely numb.

Stiles took a deep breath. "Telling you... thanks."

That... wasn't what Derek had been expecting.

He cleared his throat, and ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. "Thank me for what, Stiles?"

"For... saving me. Like, every single fucking time. Over and over again. And not just from- from fucking- psychotic werewolves or... house fires. When this... this thing," Stiles motioned to his chest, giving Derek a pained look, "Took over, I thought I was gonna lose it. I saw things. I had nightmares all the time. And Allison and Scott and Lydia- they were there, you know, when I needed them. But it was you that... you were the one who- I just-" Stiles flopped backwards onto the couch with him, looking pained and frustrated. "I just wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, okay? And I don't think I ever really said thanks for that."

Derek stared at him for a long moment, warring with himself, before he just sighed, and slung an arm over his shoulder, tugging him close.

"You too, Stiles."

Stiles nodded, and let his head fall against Derek's shoulder.

Within ten minutes, they had both fallen asleep.

And in the morning, Stiles left for Stanford.

**********  
October

Everyone is wearing costumes and doing keg stands.

_You're the one who wanted to go to college._

I was under the impression there was a little more academia involved.

_I don't know who gave you that misinformation._

Very funny. Did you even GO to college?

_I majored in history. And I'm doing about as much with my degree as you're going to do with yours, mister double major. ___

You're just jealous because I'm smarter than your little werewolf ass. Balancing anthropology and computer science is HARD!

_And completely impractical._

Whatever, I texted you to complain, not get a lecture. What are you doing?

_Just left Chris Argent's place._

Since when are you two best friends?

_Maybe since you ditched me? No. There's another pack edging closer to the border. I wanted his input on it._

Aww, sweet-cheeks, I'll be back for Thanksgiving. ;) You talk to Scott?

_He says not to do anything without a reason._

Yeah, well. Stay safe, alright?

_Always._

We both know that's bullshit.

_I'll be fine, Stiles._

I miss you.

_Thanksgiving, right?_

28 days.

**********  
November

"So, how's the virgin thing coming?"

Dinner was over, the rest of the pack and their parents scattered around the McCall house in varying states of stuffed and exhausted. (The only missing member was Lydia, who had gone to Washington with her mother, to see her grandparents.) Derek found himself and Stiles alone in the living room, with the exception of Chris Argent, who was snoring from the recliner.

When Stiles looked over at him, his eyes were wide. "What?"

"You said you didn't want to go to college a virgin. I was just... wondering how that's going."

"Derek, are you asking me if I've gotten laid in the past three months?"

Derek huffed, and pushed Stiles towards the other side of the couch. "Fine, asshole. I was just pretending to care about your life."

Stiles just laughed, bouncing back towards him and leaning in closer to Derek's face.

"I fooled around a little with a couple of people. I would say that the virgin problem is sort of non-existent now."

Derek nodded, turning his head to the side to watch Stiles' face. "Anyone you're serious about?"

"Nah. Well- there's this one guy. But... I don't think he's as into me as I am into him."

Derek opened to his mouth to ask about this guy, when Scott turned around the corner. "Hey, uh, mom wants you to come look at these pictures she found of Thanksgiving when we were like, thirteen."

Stiles used Derek's thigh to push himself off, and headed out. Scott gave him a lingering look, like he'd heard what they were talking about before he entered, before he followed after him.

Into the empty space around him, Derek just muttered, "Fuck."

**********  
April

The holidays came and went in a blur for Stiles. And with them, exams, and parties, and... time. Time that slipped by without his notice. And by the time that Spring Break rolled around, he realized it had been weeks since the last time he'd had a conversation with anyone that he loved, that lasted longer than a few texts here and there to make sure they were each alive and well.

He was... lonely.

But Scott and the others were all on different Spring Break schedules than he was, some coming earlier and some later, and he steeled himself to the fact that he was probably going to continue _being_ lonely, at least until summer.

Well, mostly lonely. There was still his dad. There was still Derek.

"Do you really think that I'm wasting my time in school?"

Stiles posed this question one day, when he was lying on the floor of Derek's loft, drinking a beer and listening to the sound of the rain hitting the windows outside. It reminded him of another night, a long time ago, but he couldn't place it.

Derek, from his place at the kitchen table, hummed out a non-answer. "Do whatever you wanna do, Stiles."

He rolled his eyes and then slid onto his stomach. "Seriously."

Derek sighed, and glanced up at him from a pile of paper. "Why did you double major in anthropology and computer science?"

"I thought that they'd help with my research."

"Research for the pack."

"Right."

Derek went back to his paperwork. "I think you'd be more help to the pack if you were actually... around."

"Everyone else went to college."

"What do you want to _do_ , Stiles?"

He frowned. Licked at his lower lip. Shrugged and stood up, walked over to sit down next to Derek. "Maybe I'd like to be a cop."

"Then yeah, I think you're wasting your time in school."

Stiles let the silence crop up between them, just sitting back and watching Derek sift through paperwork. (Maps- he was still keeping tabs on that other pack- and insurance forms, and what looked like letters to Cora.) After a while, he sidled closer, and leaned against his side, pressing his face into his shoulder.

Derek paused. And then sighed and wrapped an arm around his waist, tugging him even closer.

When he kissed the top of his head, Stiles shuddered.

"I'd like you here for selfish reasons, too."

"I know."

Silence fell again. But it was comfortable, and Stiles didn't mind.

**********  
June

Derek had fucking _known_ this was going to happen.

Other packs just didn't casually pop up and start encroaching on another pack's land without malicious intent behind it. They'd just been waiting. Biding their fucking time until the whole pack was together again. Until everyone was in one place, and then- then they'd fucking descended.

It had been a bloodbath.

They were lucky. They were lucky because they were _good_ , and the other pack had been cocky, young and arrogant, thinking that they could take down the true alpha, without the skills to back it up.

They were lucky because they were all alive, for their bruises and cuts and broken bones.

But nothing felt like victory anymore, not like this. It just felt like death.

Derek slid down onto the floor of the loft, dirty and tired. Lydia was taking first shower. Allison and Isaac were making tea.

"I'm not going back to Stanford."

Derek and Scott turned their heads towards Stiles. Derek raised his eyebrows.

"I don't- I can't just- I need to be here. I'm not going back."

Scott nodded. Reached out and wrapped his fingers around Stiles' neck. Pulled him in close enough to kiss the side of his face. "I think that's a good idea."

Derek nodded.

There were a thousand things that he wanted to say. But he was too tired for them now.

Instead, he reached over and threaded his fingers with Stiles'. Squeezed his hand. Shut his eyes and tried to sleep.

**********  
August

"Well, I am officially enrolled in the Beacon Hills police academy. I don't think my dad could possibly be more proud- or more terrified."

Stiles closed the door to the loft behind himself and slid up to the kitchen counter.

Derek just grinned and shook his head. "As he should be."

"Smells awesome, are you making orecchiette?"

"Mmm. Thought we'd celebrate your enrollment, and the subsequent inevitable downfall of the entire United States government."

Stiles laughed, softly. But then he leaned forward, across the counter and just stared at Derek, the crease between his eyebrows furrowing. Like he was trying to figure out a puzzle.

And he was. They were... a fucking puzzle.

When Derek noticed, he raised an eyebrow. "What? Did you want something else?"

"No. No, I just. You knew I was gonna enroll today."

"Well, yeah. Today's the last day of enrollment."

"But you knew I'd do it the last day. And you knew I'd come here afterwards. You know what my favorite meal is."

Derek frowned, and turned away from him, pushing at the pasta with a wooden spoon. "I... we've been friends for a long time, Stiles."

"I've been friends with Allison just as long as I've been friends with you. Longer, even. I don't think she knows me as well as you do."

Derek sighed. Stiles caught him tapping his fingers against the stove. Wondered what his heartbeat might sound like if he could hear it.

Stiles ran his tongue over his lower lip and pushed away from the counter.

"How long have we been like this?" He asked him, tone quiet and sincere.

"Like what?"

"Like this."

Stiles reached up and twisted his fingers in Derek's hair, dragging his mouth down to his.

The first touch of their lips had them both moaning in relief. Stiles' fingers twisted tighter, and Derek's hands found the contours of his hips, gripping him tight and yanking him closer.

They stumbled backwards together until Derek's ass hit the sofa, and Stiles could clamber on top of him. Years of pent of frustration bubbled at the surface, and Stiles licked at the outside of Derek's mouth until he parted his lips for him. Stiles _whined._ Derek's mouth tasted better than anything else he'd ever put his tongue to, and he wanted more of it. More of _him._

Derek seemed to share the sentiment, arching up towards Stiles all the while pushing him down. Their torsos pushed flushed together, hands searching for skin, pushing at clothes.

He rocked his hips down, hard, feeling the swell in his own jeans matched by one of Derek's own, and he _keened_ for it. "Derek, I-"

The smoke alarm went off.

"Shit."

Stiles scrambled off of Derek in time for him to grab the pot that was overflowing with water, and move it off the hot burner.

In the aftermath, the two of them stood in the kitchen, staring at each other, not speaking.

"I don't know." Derek finally said, shaking his head.

"You don't know what?"

"How long we've been like this. But I know I've never been happier."

Stiles grinned like a fucking idiot. "Me, too."

**********  
August (cont.)

That same night, when Stiles finally left after three bowls of orecchiette, Derek grabbed his phone to text his sister.

_How long have I been dating Stiles?_

Her reply came back ten minutes later.

_Like at least two years._

Derek fell asleep with a smile on his face.

**********  
October

"Three years ago, I let the darkness in." Stiles whispered the words one night into Derek's skin. "Three years ago, you invited me to spend the night for the first time." The second part is chuckled against Derek's lower back, Stiles pressing his mouth there like a promise.

"I was already in love with you."

"I know."

Derek shuddered when Stiles pressed two lube-slicked fingers against his entrance and pushed forward, making slow circles against the ring of muscles, coaxing him to loosen up for him. When Derek went a little more pliant, Stiles pushed forward the rest of the way, calling a whine out of Derek's mouth.

"I was already in love with you, too."

He fucked into him with his fingers, watching the way that he arched into it, the way he curved his body towards Stiles, to try and get more of him. Stiles just laughed again, and pressed another kiss into the center of his back.

When he had him opened up for him, Stiles kissed along his shoulder blades and slipped his fingers free, lining up his cock at his entrance. Derek turned his head to press their mouths together, just as Stiles slid home.

Derek whined into the kiss, sucking Stiles' lower lip between his teeth, Stiles rolling his hips forward to fuck into him.

When Stiles could feel his orgasm building, he reached between Derek's thighs to wrap his fingers around him and stroke.

It didn't take long for either of them to come, crying out and collapsing against the mattress.

Derek rolled Stiles over and wrapped his arms around his middle, tugging him to his chest to kiss the back of his neck. Sticky and sweaty and gross, a shower was probably in order, but neither of them moved.

**********

If you had told fifteen year old Stiles Stilinski and twenty-two year old Derek Hale that they would one day fall into each other like anchors in an ocean, they would have called you insane.

Neither of them wanted this to happen.

But it was inevitable.


End file.
